


Unholy

by witblogi



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: 2018-2019 NHL Season, Alternate Universe - Religion Changes, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Sexting, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-04-23 05:24:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19144432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witblogi/pseuds/witblogi
Summary: In which Sid plays some bad hockey, some good hockey, has a religious crisis and receives a lot of sexts.





	Unholy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [withershins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/withershins/gifts).



> to withershins: you said you liked universes where just a small thing has changed and that ripples through everything else. In this universe the hockey god (amongst a pantheon of others) is as real a deity as any other and is worshiped accordingly. Um...also I hope you aren't weirded out by a lot of teeth talk.

**September 6, 2018**

Geno chomped his gum and gave Sid a wide eyed look, eyes rolling kind of like a spooked horse. His hair looked damp with gel, a little badly styled, Sid had missed him.

“Oh, you want me to answer all of these questions?” Sid held back a fond laugh, “I think they’re for both of us.” It wasn’t like they were new or interesting questions, gods they weren’t even threatening, this was just a warm up. 

The Pens TV crew was throwing them softballs in the back of the SUV they’d procured to transport them from their airport hotel to an almost identical downtown Chicago Marriott where NHL press day was taking place.

They asked about their nerves, and being together, and the camera followed Geno ragging on the state of Sid’s perpetually greying hair, not that he had a leg to stand on, the rat bastard. Sid kept mum about the bad gel job and let him have his moment to be funny and lovable. 

The inside of the SUV was starting to smell more like the warm spearmint of Geno’s gum rather than stale rental car. 

“Are you planning on changing up your vows this year?” Ryan, their current handler from Pens TV, asked from behind the camera, twisted awkwardly in his seat with his crumpled sheets of questions and his go mug balanced in his lap. 

Sid looked out the window and refused to have an expression. 

“No,” Geno said predictably, shifting antsily, “I’m not change what work now,” he added, garnering a weak laugh from the guys in the car. Sid smiled along and looked back at the lens. 

“Nah, I’m not,” he paused there, a nice edit point, “Same old shit y’know?” He added casually, dropping the swear handily. They’d only use the first sound bite then, if at all. 

“Only a few more days of freedom left, huh?” Ryan added and Geno agreed heartily in Russian, slightly unusable footage but familiar, beloved. They wouldn’t be hearing it again for months, earliest June if they were lucky. 

Sid honestly didn’t know yet what he was vowing this year, hence sidestepping the question. He’d changed up his vows nearly every year, from the mundane to the incredibly personal. The only thing he’d really kept consistent was his reluctance to talk about it with anyone outside of team and, even then, only pertinent individuals. 

Well, and Adra, but she didn’t really count. 

This year he wasn’t sure what he was ready to risk, ready to put aside for his dream and to show his commitment. He felt off-kilter already, the summer having been rough and long. Travel with a significant other really was the true test of a relationship’s strength and only a short jaunt around Europe had broken everything for them. It had been shocking and messy and painful enough he’d had to change all his plans last minute, including cancelling on meeting up with G to watch the World Cup.

He lifted one hand to press against the pendant that rested, warm and heavy, just under his shirt buttons. He didn’t have much time left to decide; he already had several inquiring emails from Adra piling up in his inbox. 

Geno was answering some question about what young guns he was excited to see and skate with this season, more gossip with the crew than anything as they crept through downtown traffic. 

The rise and fall of his voice was as familiar as a broken-in pair of skates. It was comfortable and steady in all the ways that mattered, in all the most important parts of his life. Hockey was his retreat, and Geno reminded him of that.

“Hey,” Geno nudged him with the side of one hand, “You make me say all question. You know I can’t talk.” 

“You say that now, but we both know who’s the real loudmouth around here.” The car eased out of the flow of traffic and pulled into the parking lane in front of the hotel. 

“Is you!” G protested, flicking his seatbelt off immediately. 

“Okay, whatever you say.” Sid laughed, shrugging his own belt off and maneuvering himself half up to follow Geno out his door, “Thanks for the lift guys.”

Sid followed G into the overly air-conditioned lobby of the hotel, trying to match his pace to Geno’s long loping stride. G seemed to take pity on him and slowed as they crossed the ugly vine-and-flower-patterned burgundy carpets. 

“You’re not have vow yet?” He asked, serious now, concerned and focused without any cameras on him. His English didn’t necessarily get better, but he relaxed his delivery in an almost imperceptible way. 

“I must be getting rusty in my old age, eh? Was I that transparent?” Sid asked, not too worried. Even his absolute worst performances with the media – drugged to the gills and missing half his teeth, or currently swelling up with mumps – he didn’t really come across as anything but earnest to outsiders and acquaintances. They strolled up to the gleaming elevator banks.

“I’m know you.” Geno rolled his eyes, still chomping at his gum obnoxiously, “what’s real plan? No changing question.” He smacked at the elevator button. 

“I don’t know, the last few years have been-” he shook his head. “But I need to change it up, obviously.” 

“Choose careful, Sid, don’t pick too hard just because you want prove you can.” The doors to the empty elevator opened with a ding. “Don’t pick stupid.” 

“I know.” They stepped inside and the doors closed behind them. Sid punched the button for the ballroom’s floor two up from the lobby. He didn’t appreciate being accused of being a martyr, but Geno didn’t pull his punches and Sid needed that.

“Pick something nice. Pet no dogs for whole season,” Geno shrugged and Sid met his eyes in the slightly warped reflection in the doors.

“I don’t pet that many dogs to begin with.” 

“Fine, easy year,” Geno tucked his hands into his pockets, unconcerned.

“It’s not supposed to be _easy_ ,” Sid couldn’t help but smile ruefully, “Besides, even if my season goes straight to hell, you’ll have my back, eh?” 

Geno was quiet for a long moment, looking up at the numbers as they slowly changed on the digital display above the doors. He wasn’t smiling or laughing as Sid intended, but looked serious, pensive. When he finally did look at Sid, his eyes did a circuit of his whole face. 

“I’m always have.” 

The doors opened with another ding, and the noise of the press day rushed in. 

———

**March 16, 2019**

Under the watchful eyes of their god, he delivered the gleaming stick into Geno’s waiting hands. Sid looked up at the arena idol’s blank stare while he pulled Geno close for a measured, careful moment and then pulled back to invite Phil to do his part next. 

Geno’s gaze followed Sid as he waddled down the carpet, shaking hands with his father, kissing his mother on the cheek. He could feel it, even as Geno was accepting a jersey and another embrace from Tanger. 

He could still feel it later, when the anthems were done and Sid made the sign of the five-pointed star and circle on his chest before skating off to secure his helmet and get into position for the first face off. 

And even later than that, at the lazy, half-hearted celebration in Geno’s palatial house when the game was lost and their sleepy teammates were nursing their last beers. Even as the sober-vowed guys shepherded everyone into their coats and shoes ready to head home, he felt the prickle of being watched. 

“C’mon guys, let’s go, mom and dad need alone time,” Schultzy said as he snagged a wobbly Jake by the collar, making sure Olli had both shoes on. Sid laughed as Schultzy winked and vanished, the door whooshing closed after him, muffling the sound of Jake begging for drive-through McNuggets. 

When he finally met Geno’s gaze from across the room, he stopped gathering up the cans and cups strewn on every horizontal surface. Geno’s house was as familiar as his own and this dance of co-hosting a team get-together was well broken in. They _were_ a bit like the team parents.

The look Geno was giving him, however, finally made Sid snag two beers and join him in the small seating area outside of the kitchen.

Sid settled himself onto one of the godawful floral chesterfields that Geno had set up around a coffee table in his den area. They were wide and comfortable and that’s what mattered, but sometimes Sid lamented Geno’s aesthetic taste in everything.

He handed off the fresh beer down the sofa, pulling one leg up under him to turn and face G.

“1000, eh?” He opened his beer, “that’s big.” 

“Not want to talk about points Sid,” 

“Well you want to talk about something, either that or you’ve been trying to make my head explode with your mind all night.” Geno huffed and took a slurp of his new beer. Sid followed suit but when Geno didn’t start elaborating he sighed. 

“Look, whatever you’ve got on your mind, you’re going to have to spit it out.” 

Geno just laughed, rubbing one giant hand over his face and into his hair, making it stick up both unattractively and endearingly. 

“Always captain.” He looked at Sid with a touch of…worry, maybe, “Easy for you maybe, easy for to say things.” He grimaced even as he said it and looked pointedly at Sid like _‘See what I’m dealing with here?’._

“It’s just me, you can take your time with it.” Sid settled in. Sometimes the struggle of getting to the heart of whatever was bothering Geno wasn’t necessarily a problem of language, but rather a problem of G being uncomfortable saying exactly what he wanted to say without fumbling it.

“ _Just_ you, yes.” Geno flicked the tab of his can, “you’re problem Sid.” 

“ _I’m_ your problem?” He asked with interest, a tendril of worry working its way into his mind. He tried to ignore it; Geno said he wasn’t going to do the best job explaining what he was thinking, maybe he didn’t mean it the way it sounded. 

“Early tonight I’m standing on carpet with Mario, seeing crowd, seeing guys, see you. You have stick.” He gestured like he was holding a hockey stick, a smile curling the corners of his mouth, “My heart so full. Feel like _this_ everything, you know?” 

“Okay, yeah, I know G, I felt like that too.” Sid didn’t really know where this was going but he wanted to contribute, and he did understand how it felt to be warmed through at the pregame meeting that marked his 1000th point. The intimate presentation of these artifacts of his achievement by his closest teammates and friends had been overwhelming.

“But not just points, not just hockey. I’m think, I don’t want any of this without like, Sid. Means so much because it’s you.” Geno’s voice dropped into something serious. 

Sid’s heart had, at some point, started beating wildly without his permission. He wet his lips and tried to focus on the moment, on being there for G. 

“Realize I’m feel, like it’s our team. Like we’re partner. And I realize, like, I want. I’m want you, Sidney.” Geno let his words fall between them, heavy like the look in his eyes that he levelled at Sid once again. It was the same look he’d been giving him all night. Like he’d come to the huge realization that he was in love with one of his closest friends. 

“G…” Sid felt hot; a flush crept up his neck and he felt his forehead dot with perspiration. Partially it was from the beer, but Geno’s declaration did have an effect on him and his heart was definitely racing now. 

“Don’t want any points, any hockey, anything else if can’t have you too,” Geno declared firmly in the same impassioned way he did whenever his mind was made up and he was tired of discussing. 

Romantic motherfucker.

Sid swallowed the lump in his throat and started trying to walk the conversation back into safer territory, “C’mon, you’re just saying that because it’s a big night. You’re tired and there’s a lot of emotions-” 

“No. I’m think always. This year we’re get old. We’re old guy, vets on team, in _league_. Your hair, _my hair._ ” Geno gestured to their respective graying heads, setting his beer down exasperatedly, “We not same boys in Mario’s pool with cup. Maybe not much time left. Think about all year. Done with think. I’m not date anyone, you’re not date anyone. See you with stick and I’m know. Feel hockey god.” Geno pulled his pendants out of his shirt, cord and chain tangled together, but the odd four-armed star he wore gleamed just the same as Sid’s. His gaze was determined. He was so _brave_ , he always just put his heart out there without a thought of being hurt.

“We can’t.” Sid said quietly at last, looking down into his beer and then back up to see Geno’s face fall with confusion. His stomach twisted sourly at the lingering silence that followed his words.

“You’re not want.” Geno said finally, tone flat and disbelieving. Sid scrubbed his hand over his own face. 

“That’s not,” his voice cracked and he swallowed thickly, “that’s not true.” 

He knew exactly what Geno was feeling and thinking. He’d been dealing with it for years, mostly content to make his vows and devote himself to the hockey god, and settle for being a good friend. He dated, and refused to let himself pine and got on with his life. He never thought he’d have a shot at anything with G, so bright and rich with his own life a world away. 

“Then what? Why?” Geno reached out then, shifting in his seat to turn his hips to face Sid. His hand almost made contact with his face, so close to cupping his jaw Sid could feel the heat from his palm. He pulled back. 

Geno looked crushed. 

“It’s not, G, come on. That’s not it. It’s not simple,” Sid shook his head.

“It can be, we try.” Geno reached out again and Sid dodged, again.

“We can’t-” 

“Why not?” Geno demanded cutting him off. He wasn’t going to take no for an answer easily. 

“Because of my vow.” Geno was not placated by that in the least. 

“You’re never say what vow is! What you say no to this time? Fun? Happy?” He crossed his arms over his chest sulkily. 

“Of course not!” Sid couldn’t swear those things off without first of all being a total psychopath, and secondly, swearing off hockey itself. 

“Well _what?_ What you do?”

“I vowed to have no romantic intimacy,” Sid said finally. Geno scrubbed his hands over his face again. 

“What does that mean?” He asked, sounding exceptionally tired. 

“I can’t be with anyone…physically.” 

The penny dropped. Geno’s head fell back on his long neck as he let out a bark of laughter. 

“You swear no sex?” He asked, incredulous. Sid bristled. 

“Yes, but also anything else, kissing, hugging, whatever, all of it, none of it.” At the time it’d felt right, cleansing somehow. A season for just hockey.

“Is _most_ cliché vow.” Geno looked pained with mirth. 

“Well I wasn’t exactly expecting to get into another relationship any time this season, and _you_ even told me to pick something _easy_ ,” Sid said defensively. This was why he hadn’t really shared what his vow was with anyone this season. It was none of their business, no one could help him keep it, and he’d get _this_ reaction from everyone. 

“I’m tell you, you know like no _ice cream_ , not no sex!” Geno sobered for a minute, “Can you-” He made a jerking off motion, something that was apparently universal through all languages and locker rooms. Sid rolled his eyes but felt himself flush anyway.

“What? Of course, I’m not _chaste_ , I’m just _celibate._ ”

Geno nodded thoughtfully. They sat together in silence for several beats. 

“Gods, your timing always was shit, hey?” Sid laughed a little, placing his elbow on the back of the sofa and dropping his head into his hand. This wasn’t how he’d ever wanted this moment to go. He hadn’t let himself imagine it much, but when he had…this wasn’t it.

“My time is always good, everyone else too early,” Geno muttered darkly. 

“This time you’re the one who’s early,” Sid said softly before he paused regarding Geno’s sour beloved face. “But, I do want it,” Sid swallowed, “and you. For a long time.” 

“Yes?” Sid didn’t want them to go on in their easy routines together without acknowledging what was between them.

“Yeah. You have to know, G,” Sid said, unable to hold back his smile, “I mean based on the looks you’ve been giving me just today I don’t know that we could pretend to go back to before anyway.” 

“Have to wait. Couple more weeks,” Geno said sulkily, annoyed.

“Couple months.” Sid corrected him and Geno stuck his lower lip out, eyebrows up in thought. 

“Yes, maybe so.” Geno leaned over and gathered up his beer again. He took a mouthful, “most stupid vow.” 

“Yeah, you made it clear what you think of it.” 

“Can vow anything and you give up _sex_.” Geno rolled his eyes hugely again, “So dumb.” 

“Thanks.” 

“Could be have sex already.” 

“Oh? For sure? You’re that ready to go? No warm up necessary?” Sid asked archly, mostly to point out Geno was being ridiculous. Geno surprisingly turned towards him again, eyes as dark as they’d been all night, falling to his lips in a familiar pattern Sid had never truly noticed before. 

“Been want for long time.” he said earnestly, voice deep, “already friend, what left? Even seen naked.” 

“You’re not supposed to _look_ in the showers, you know that right?” Sid said dryly. 

“How expect not look? Very hot. Sexy.” Geno supplied immediately unashamed and persistent, “Best lips, _best_ ass.” 

Sid rolled his eyes, he’d definitely heard that before. 

“Best eyes, best hands, best hockey.” Sid had heard those too, but not like this. Not in the context that these things got Geno going just as much as any other physical attribute. He’d never heard these things coming from Geno himself this way, as he swayed further into Sid’s space. 

“G-” He tried to sound resolute, ready to try to put an end to this before it spiralled out of control. 

“Want you. Don’t you want? You think I’m not think about? Not think about how good you look? What you like? Where you like touch?” Geno’s tone was so rich it almost felt like a physical touch. His arm came up to rest on the back of the chesterfield, so close his fingers brushed Sid’s shoulder. 

If Sid didn’t make him stop talking now he wouldn’t be the only one ready to go with no warm up. “I’m think about it all time.” 

“Geno.” 

“You’re most fantasy.” Sid’s mouth was dry as he swallowed.

“You need to stop talking and I need to go home before I do something stupid.” 

“Stupid like break vow?” Geno reeled in the sex voice, looking far too pleased with himself and slid back into the comfortable teasing tone he was accustomed to. 

“Yes.” Geno’s face was absurdly smug. “I need to go before I do something I regret on this ugly-ass couch.” Geno looked vaguely offended at his seating being called ugly. He patted the seat beside him apologetically.

“In bed, no space here, bad knees, we old.” Geno said firmly. 

“Too old for this.” Sid agreed and levered himself up from the sofa, Geno followed suit, bringing their beer cans into the kitchen and then following him to the door. 

“What’s saying? ‘Hate see you go but love watch’?” 

“Oh my gods.” Sid looked over his shoulder to see Geno’s eyes predictably glued to his backside, “Where did you even pick that up?” 

“I’m _read_ ,” he sounded offended again as Sid put his shoes on by the door. 

“Sure,” Sid straightened up again, “Listen we…we should both sleep on this. It’s kind of huge and we’ve been drinking.” He shrugged into the coat that Geno gathered up off of his stairwell for him.

“That’s what she say,” Geno raised his hands in surrender before Sid could admonish him to try to take it seriously. “Been long day, very emotion, feel…silly.” 

“Yeah, okay.” 

“Really. Cute boy like me.” 

“I’m leaving.” Sid rolled his eyes and turned to leave but Geno stopped him. 

“Hey, come.” He gestured in the long familiar way he did when he wanted a hug, arms wide. Sid stepped into it, sighing at the warmth and familiarity of it. Being with G just felt right. When he tried to step back Geno didn’t let him go instead holding on even tighter for a few more moments, his breath hot against Sid’s temple. When he was finally let go, Geno’s expression was strangely sober. 

“Hockey god won’t know difference between friend hug and date hug.”

———

**March 17, 2019**

**🐧G**  
_3:08 AM_  
Is flirting intimite?  
We flirt  
I drunk. Flirted a lot tonite

 _3:12 AM_  
Think about, as you say  
I’m sorry  
Don’t want penguins hockey to suffer because of my dick

———

The next day broke blue and misty. He had a half dozen text messages from Geno waiting for him on his phone when he woke up. He read them on the toilet, willing himself to wake up and forgoing a reply. He’d speak with Geno in person at practice in an hour or two, better than leaving him texts he might not read at all before turning up at the rink and having to reiterate. 

Sid wanted to talk to Adra before they went any further anyway. He’d been drunk enough as well, and in the cold light of morning he honestly wasn’t sure where to draw the lines around his vow. Physical intimacy for sure, but romantic intimacy encompassed a lot of other things.

Sid headed for the rink early. His mind felt as foggy as outside had been as he pedalled through his morning cardio and watched the guys trickle into the room. 

He was stretching out pre-practice by the time Geno appeared, rumpled and sleep-creased. He stumbled into his stall, immediately stepped out of his shoes and forcefully unzipped his jacket. He didn’t look at Sid, and he didn’t talk to anyone. Maybe a good sign, business as usual for a hangover kind of day.

Sid still just couldn’t stop feeling like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Practice went as well as usual, he paid attention to his footwork, his backhand, his backcheck. Powerplay unit still felt fine, the telltale pulse of his and Geno’s dynamic falling easily into place. If anything it felt better, he felt hyperaware of where Geno was at all times, and the looks they exchanged on the ice felt electric. 

He was excited, everything was somehow okay. They’d completely changed the context of their universe but still everything was fine. Normal.

Adra appeared in the doorway to the locker room after everyone had showered and Sid’s heart immediately fell into his stomach like a stone. 

“A vow has been broken,” her voice rang out, clear like a bell. The room went silent. 

Adra strode into the middle of their chaos of equipment and clothing, her tailored black pinstripe suit formal and foreboding amongst everyone’s towels and tousled hair. She stood tall, shoes wickedly pointed, the silver of her large star amulet glinting from where it sat against her sternum. Her dark hair was wild around her face as usual and in times like this, Sid was a little convinced she was more witch than priestess. 

He chanced a look at Geno, shirtless and pink, only to find him already looking back at him. His gaze was dark and fierce, jaw tensed like he was ready to fight. Sid’s heart sank to realize Geno thought maybe it was he who had broken his vow.

Adra headed towards him, and for a moment Sid panicked internally, maybe the hockey god _did_ somehow know the difference between a friendly hug goodbye and something more.

He breathed in through his nose, out through his mouth and looked up at her – she was focused on Jake beside him.

“Oh come on! It was one – it was _one_ drunken McWrap!” he protested hotly but Adra merely reached above him to where all of their vows were tacked above their name plates and plucked it down. 

“Jake Guentzel, do you deny having broken the vow you made to consume no fast food for this season, pledging yourself and your stick to the God Athlonis in exchange for his favour?” She asked in a crisp tone, challenging him to lie to her face. She held the sheaf of folded vellum out to him, its black wax seal face-up, unbroken. 

Jake swallowed audibly and took the vellum from her fingers. The mark in the wax matched the pendant he wore, a perfect imprint from the preseason when they all, one by one, pledged themselves to their god for the season.

“I don’t deny it,” he said at last, humble and chastened by just one look from their priestess. Under her watchful eye Jake broke his seal for all to see, the crack of the wax loud in the silent locker room.

The only person who didn’t seem affected was Horny, who spared them a passing glance but continued liberally applying his deodorant. As a non-believer, he didn’t particularly think anything ill would come of one broken vow, or twenty for that matter. 

Adra drifted out of their space, job done, and the sound seeped back in, like a vacuum that was slowly released. Jake sat with the remnants of his vow crumpled in his lap. 

“Hey, it’s not the end of the world,” Sid elbowed him gently. He’d broken his vows before, mostly to disastrous consequences, but he knew plenty of guys who didn’t take it that seriously. Hell, Tanger swore off cheese nearly every year and folded like a cheap suit every Christmas; sometimes he had record breaking years, sometimes…well sometimes he had a stroke.

“I just don’t understand how she _knew_.” Jake muttered, “I barely even remember it, I just saw the wrappers this morning.” 

Sid used to think the same way, that the priestesses worked in mysterious ways and had a knack for just _knowing_ things that they shouldn’t otherwise possibly know. Now he knew it wasn’t magic at all, usually guys came to them immediately to confess and do whatever they could do to repair the damage. Hiding it never benefited anyone in the long run. That didn’t mean he didn’t have to remind himself of that sometimes - considering how worried he’d been about a damn hug no one else saw just a moment ago.

“Hate to break it to you, but it’s on your Instagram story.” Dumo slapped Jake on the shoulder heartily, “not hard to figure out.” 

“Ugh,” Jake slumped back in his stall, letting his vow fall to the ground between his feet.

“It’s fine. Just keep your head down, work hard. It’ll be okay.” Sid stood, adjusting his hat so his wet hair lay comfortably beneath it. 

“But our season-” Jake started to moan and Sid turned to look down at him directly. 

“Our season isn’t on you. Your McWrap isn’t going to change anything. Our team as a whole needs to get us to the playoffs, not just you,” Sid said firmly and then broke eye contact to shuffle into his arena slides. 

“I need to speak with Adra, but after I’m done I think you should talk to her too. You need to get your head on straight.” Sid took a look around the locker room, noting everyone going through their usual game day motions. 

Geno was deep in conversation with Phil and Dana, stretching oddly as they were talking about what sounded like gloves. He kept rolling his shoulder, Sid made a mental note to make sure he followed up with Paul about it. Geno liked to try to rush his injuries or ignore them to his detriment. 

Sid slipped away from Jake with one last comforting kick at his feet and wove through everyone else into the equipment area. He made a beeline straight to the offering catalogue and pulled his familiar 87 drawer from the topmost left. He reached in and fished out two teeth from his stock. They felt both smooth and sharp as he rolled them in his fingers, and he left the room to shuffle down the hall to Adra’s office. 

The players’ altar was just outside both the priestess and visiting priestess’ domains and Sid briefly stopped in front of it. He looked up at the idol there. The stern features of the god of athletics stared down at him, shaped finely out of black marble. 

The fans’ idol was much larger, standing tall in the concourse of the building. It wore a Penguins sweater and was perched jovially atop drums filled with hat trick hat offerings. The god always seemed much friendlier when it was being worshiped by thousands of adoring, excited fans. 

An athlete’s relationship with their god was different, however – more nuanced. 

Sid looked over the golden platters that sat at the god’s feet. One for the home team to wish for a win sat to the left. Most of the guys brought their teeth at some point during a game day and tossed them in with a small prayer. The teeth on it were mostly the dull white of standard ceramic-reproduction dental offerings. A few were flashy, blacks and golds and yellows - certain colours for certain events. Cully’s 1500th game garnered a handful of teeth inked with the number 7 on them. 

Sid set one of his teeth intentionally on the pile, clearing his mind for a moment to focus on the idea of the win, the longing for a goal, the sound of the horn, the flush of elation in a celly. 

The rightmost platter was the twin of the home offerings, filled with a bright rainbow of away team teeth in all shapes and sizes. This deep into the season both platters were mountainous. 

In the centre, directly before the god’s feet was a smaller dish, far less populated. This one was for serious matters, asking forgiveness, guidance, protection or other intimate and highly important player dilemmas. On this platter were more valuable offerings, teeth cast in precious metals, hand carved from stones, studded with gems, and, most valuable of all, _real_ teeth lost on the ice. 

Sid pressed the remaining offering he had between his fingers until it stung, flesh catching on the sharp edges of a molar. His offering wasn’t special, ceramic like all his others, but he felt the need to make it all the same. He could feel himself starting to walk a fine line between respecting his vows and his god, and pushing the boundaries dangerously. He prayed for guidance and fair calls and good judgment, stilled for a moment, and set his offering among the others.

He looked up at the idol holding its star and stick for a long minute and then made the sign of the star and circle and strode off to see if Adra was free.

— — —

“How’s Jake?” Adra seemed entirely unsurprised to see him at her threshold, and gestured for him to take his usual seat.

“He’s fine I think, a little upset and disappointed in himself. He’ll probably be seeing you a little later. Might be an interesting game tonight.” Sid said, sinking into one of the incredibly plush, oversized chairs in her counselling area. He tried not to fidget as she left her position behind her desk to join him. 

“Playing the Flyers always makes for an interesting game,” she looked him over shrewdly, “but something tells me that isn’t why you’re here.” 

“I need guidance.” Sid leaned forward, elbows on knees, looking up at her from under the brim of his cap. He trusted Adra’s advice above almost anyone’s. She’d been the only person willing to take on the uphill battle of being the priestess to deal with him in the darkest days of his concussion when his faith had totally deserted him.

“Please, you’re always welcome to speak your mind.” She looked keenly interested in what he had to say, crossing her legs and settling into her seat further. The pinstripes of her uniform glittered slightly this close up. 

“It’s my vow this year.” 

“Ah, it took you longer to come in than I thought,” she acknowledged with a small smile. “Shunning romantic attachment isn’t an easy thing to do.” 

“It should be. It _was_ ,” Sid said earnestly. In the beginning it was all too easy, a relief really, to give himself permission to just focus on hockey for one season. No more worrying about what his future was going to look like, or who he was going to spend it with, or if their motives were sincere. 

“So what happened?”

Sid hesitated. He’d initially wanted to come in and lay his cards out on the table and get her perspective on the situation, but now that he was here, looking at her looking calmly back at him he realized what he was really about to do. 

Geno also had to spend a regulated amount of time with Adra every week. She was the priestess for the whole team, and telling her about this kind of entanglement between players, let alone two _important_ players could have disastrous consequences. 

On the one hand she was paid to privately counsel them all, to interpret the rulebooks, and to communicate the will of their god. Sid trusted they could all speak in confidence with her. On the other hand, the Penguins organization was still writing her cheques and at the end of the day Sid wouldn’t blame her for placing her loyalty in where her dinner was coming from.

That was one problem, the other of course being the completely separate issue of _Geno’s_ confidence. He wasn’t privy to what G and Adra discussed in their sessions. If anything, he knew they didn’t have an amazing relationship - Geno’s primary professional religion was a sister branch, _similar_ but not exactly the same as theirs. He tended to think Adra was creepy and too much like a ведьма to truly trust.

“There’s the possibility for something – a relationship,” he said carefully, “A close friend has expressed interest…and I feel the same way.” 

Adra cocked her head but said nothing, waiting for him to continue. 

“I guess I’m just wondering what the protocol is for this kind of thing. There could be months left in the season. I’m not sure what is and isn’t acceptable behaviour based on the wording of my vow and I want to respect the hockey god’s wishes.” 

“This friend of yours can’t wait until the season is over?” She asked looking at him expectantly. Sid felt himself flush. 

“It’s not - I know how that sounds, but we’ve been friends for a long time. There’s really nothing left to do to create a relationship from our friendship other than - uh, foster _intimacy_.” 

“I’m not judging you Sid, you’re a grown man, and vows of celibacy are notoriously difficult for a reason,” she paused, looking over the large tapestry that hung on the wall beside them depicting the mother, the maiden and the crone. Adra was in the beginning of her sisterhood and still favoured the maiden. Every moon in her office was waxing. 

“The only thing I can truly counsel you with is caution. I don’t need to tell you what a precarious position the team is currently in. The whims of the god are especially strongly felt for the middle of the pack at the end of the season.” 

“I know. It’s a bad time,” Sid sighed but Adra smiled slyly at him, eyes sliding off the tapestry and back squarely on him. He smiled a little back, unsure, “what?” 

“Have you considered that this was the only time for something like this to happen?” She asked, pressing her fingers into the heavy amulet she wore, it was practically in her lap while she was sitting.

“What do you mean?” 

“It’s a test, sent to you by the god to determine your strength of will. Your mettle.” Her words were soft but rang loudly in Sid’s head. _Of course._

Sid rubbed a hand over his face. It made perfect sense. The god was always at work in their lives, and he knew that more intimately than anyone.

“I’ll take caution,” he nodded half to himself and half to her, already shifting to lift himself out of his seat. 

“Don’t-” Adra reached a hand out to him quickly before composing herself, “I do want to encourage you to take caution, but don’t close your heart off to something good. Reserving energy to endure a long stretch is important, but so is knowing when to leave it all on the ice and push until you can’t skate another second.” 

“So what you’re saying is I just need to play it by ear?” 

“And have faith. You’ll know what the god wants when the time is right.” 

— — —

**March 18, 2019**

**Sid**  
_1:28 AM_  
Sometimes games just go like this, it wasn’t your fault.  
Sucks that it was the flyers though.  
We need you to be healthy for the playoffs and you can’t be playing on a pulled shoulder.  
Can we talk soon?  
I saw Adra about my vows.

— — — 

“Hey are you going to start talking to me again?” Sid caught up with Geno in the hallway of their usual Raleigh hotel. He’d been avoiding Sid ever since it was announced he was going to be sitting out of the Philly game with an upper body injury. 

“Never stop talk.” Geno unlocked his door and wheeled his bag inside, Sid caught the door and followed him in with his own bag. 

“G, I know it’s hard to sit out, especially against Philly.” He felt obtuse saying it, but Geno was still pouting about having been benched – especially so soon after his 1000th point – and maybe blaming himself for the loss. The Penguins didn’t have the time to feel sorry for themselves, every game mattered at this point.

Geno sulkily toyed with the wrapper on the coffee mug in his room and didn’t answer him. 

“I know you’re probably not in the mood to talk about us, but we should.” Sid felt flushed already just saying it. The fact there was an ‘us’ at all to be considered was mind blowing.

“Adra tell you don’t do. Keep vow,” Geno said sullenly. It occurred to Sid then that perhaps Geno’s black mood wasn’t solely about the injury and subsequent loss after all. 

“Oh. Shit, no, she didn’t say that,” Sid frowned, “she told me to take it one day at a time.” 

“What’s difference?” Geno finally straightened up from the refreshments table and sat down heavily on the end of the bed. He looked up at Sid with frustration, “we both think it’s you who vow break when she come into room, both scare.” 

Sid sat down beside G, and then resisting the urge to shift slightly when their thighs pressed together. He pressed into it instead.

“Yeah, I mean, for sure I was scared, but it wouldn’t have been the end of the world. That’s what she was telling me-” 

“So let’s finish. Be done with vow, don’t matter if season is ruin, season is _shit_.” Geno slipped his hand to Sid’s thigh, a hot brand that sent sensation rushing up to pool in his groin after such a long season, “We have three cup, been to playoffs so much. One year off.” 

Sid wrapped his hand around Geno’s wrist, keeping his hand exactly where it was. 

“Are you serious?” 

“Why I’m not serious? Maybe we do and season is fine, have cup.” Geno fronted, acting like it was no big deal. Sid pulled back in disbelief.

“But what if it isn’t, what if I get injured?” He stood from the bed, letting Geno’s hand drop from his thigh. 

“You’re not get injured. Tanger eat _so_ much cheese, always fine,” Geno scoffed and Sid flipped his cap off to run his hand through his hair and set it back in place. 

“He doesn’t eat _that_ much cheese,” he knew it was a distraction but couldn’t resist getting into it. 

“Every day in salad!” Geno looked disgusted, like half of things he ate weren’t completely smothered in mayonnaise. 

“That’s tofu,” Sid pointed out wearily. 

“…Is cheese.”

“Tofu isn’t cheese,” Sid set his hands on his hips, “okay, that’s beside the point.” He raised his hand before Geno could protest wrongly that tofu was in fact actually a cheese and they got into the great Penguins tofu debate of 2017 all over again.

“What’s going on with you? I know you wouldn’t set aside your vow like that. And I’ve never heard you say fuck it, this was a bad season anyway we should just coast and try again next year.” 

Geno looked small and cowed where he still sat on the end of the bed. 

“This is going to sound dumb but…am I just not worth waiting for?” He felt acutely like the gawky, pukka-shell wearing teenager he once was having this conversation, but that was the message he kept getting from Geno’s attitude. There was no point in pursuing this relationship if they couldn’t physically be together. While flattering, it was also not the kind of person he knew Geno was, especially not with his romantic partners. 

“No, Sid,” Geno stood as well, and then sat back down, rumpling his hair with his hand, “it’s _my_ vow,” he finally said. His face seemed to gain a grey pallor as he spoke. 

Sid crossed his arms over his chest. 

“Your vow to not speak Russian for the whole season is preventing you from waiting until we’re done with hockey to be physically intimate with me?” He spelled it out, not understanding. 

“That not,” Geno sighed deeply, dramatically, “I’m hate. English.” 

“No shit, eh, that’s why you make the vow every year and it’s still valid.” That was part of the joy of Sid’s feelings about Geno, that even fed up with his behaviour he could find it in him to tease him, try to bring up his spirits when he seemed down. 

“I don’t speak Russian for whole season. Can’t talk to Mama, Papa, in language we both know totally - have to speak some Ukrainian,” he says willing Sid to follow along which he did, nodding. 

“So we like, talk like I talk to you in English but don’t have like all words, but can talk,” Geno swallowed, “but when they come and I see, it’s easy. I hug, Mama cooks, Papa brings funny thing he find in store. We’re still like, love, family, still feel even if can’t say perfect. You know?”

Sid was beginning to get the picture of what Geno was trying to say. 

“With you there no Russian ever,” he said soberly, “You're not want public show, too many media. No choice for big sign, roses, say you mine. You hate.” 

Sid pressed his lips together, refusing to cringe. He _would_ hate that kind of declaration, not to mention he’d worked too long and hard to keep his private life private just to blow it all up so Geno could order a bunch of flowers to be sent to the rink or have a plane write S + E = X in the sky or something else equally mortifying. 

“Vow make nothing else. I can’t say I love, I can’t show, I can’t touch,” Geno shook his head, “don’t know anything else.” 

Sid sat heavily back down on the bed. 

“Okay,” he sighed, “I’m not going to break my vow just because it’s going to be hard. That’s the point of it, the hockey god is challenging us both. That’s what Adra told me you know. It’ll be hard, but I think we’ll figure it out. and I know you think you don’t communicate well in English, but you do. I understand you.” Sid reached out for Geno’s hand but diverted at the last moment and instead gently stroked the inside of his wrist with the back of his knuckle. 

Geno groaned forlornly and flopped backwards onto the bed. 

“Hey, maybe I’ll take up some Russian, eh? About time we were on even footing. Maybe you can only speak English and I can only speak Russian. Давай!” 

Geno threw his arm over his eyes dramatically at that, but Sid could see his smile underneath. For the moment it felt like they had diffused the situation. He stood by his ‘communication above all else’ mode of operation.

“Accent _so_ bad. We never talk again, hope we can fuck by then,” Geno lifted his arm to peek at where Sid was standing once more.

“Yeah,” Sid punched him in the leg none too softly and went to collect his things as Geno rolled in pain on his bed. 

“I’ll catch you at dinner, eh?” He spared Geno one last fond look, bed-rumpled and still pretending to be bruised, and turned for the door.

“Yes. I’m be there, mandatory.” 

“Okay, text me, we’ll figure this out.” 

— — —

**March 19, 2019**

**🐧G**  
_12:12 AM_  
Sid  
Figured out  
Remembered this is your vow  
I don’t have to do  
Can say whatever i want  
Can tell you i want kiss you  
Can say fuck you to your rules

 _12:20 AM_  
Can tell you to fuck me  
I think about, you know?  
You fuck me

 _12:25 AM_  
Do you think about?

— — —

Sid blinked at his phone in his hotel room bed. They had a game that night, he had a strict schedule to follow from the moment he woke up to the moment he stepped on to the ice that night. He’d picked up his phone to silence his alarm as usual and then he’d seen a slew of texts from Geno the night before and the day immediately went off the rails. 

Sid barely understood what he was reading, half-awake as he was. He rubbed his eyes and tried again. 

_can tell you to fuck me  
i think about, you know?  
you fuck me_

His dick was already somewhat hard, morning being what it was, but he usually preferred to let nature take its course with his first piss. He didn’t usually stay in bed to indulge on game days, but this was something unexpected entirely, and his mind was spinning before he really had a handle on the situation. 

Geno had apparently come to the conclusion that Sid’s vow did not encompass dirty text messages. Sid flopped onto his back, mind fuzzy. He closed his eyes briefly again, phone clutched in one hand while the other scratched down his stomach and then moved to cup himself through his underwear. 

Had he ever thought about fucking Geno before? Maybe, in that way that he’d been young once and thought about fucking everyone - but now he was really thinking about it. 

Geno was so long everywhere, his legs went on for days and to have them wrapped around him, holding him close while he fucked into him. Sid thought about the soft flesh around Geno’s hips that begged to be touched, clutched as he pushed their hips together in dirty rolls. He thought about Geno’s ass, round and abrupt in the way that Sid’s own really wasn’t. He was thick through and through with huge thighs and a core to match, but Geno was ludicrously juicy in just the one biteable, fuckable spot.

Sid groaned and squeezed his dick, letting go to cup his balls sympathetically. He didn’t have time for this kind of indulgence, he needed to get up and eat and make his way to practice. 

He opened his eyes and looked at his phone again, pulling it within reach and unlocking it with a tap. 

**Sid**  
_7:05 AM_  
You really put the jerk in jerk off you know that?  
I have to go to breakfast hard because of you  
Of course I think about fucking you  
If we win tonight I expect to wake up to another explicit text message on thursday

He threw back the covers all in one go, letting the cold air-conditioned air hit him in an icy wave to shock him awake. He shuffled into the bathroom, taking his phone with him to check the news. 

**🐧G**  
_7:08 AM_  
Pics?

 **Sid**  
_7:08 AM_  
I’m not sending any dirty photos ever.  
Phones can be hacked

 **🐧G**  
_7:10 AM_  
They fun tho

Sid was in the middle of brushing his teeth by the time the latest text from Geno came in and when Sid unlocked his phone he almost dropped it in the sink. There, glaringly distracting on his screen, Geno’s mostly flat belly stretched temptingly towards a thick erection, tenting the pooled white sheets around his hips. Sid felt blood rush immediately towards his cock again. He prayed for patience and tried not to press against the counter.

 **Sid**  
_7:11 AM_  
I can’t believe you sent that  
Just because you’re injured doesn’t mean you aren’t expected at practice on time.  
You should be out of bed. 

**🐧G**  
_7:13 AM_  
Your not fun

Sid put his phone face down on the counter, determined not to look at any more text messages from Geno and refocused on his own reflection, and moving his toothbrush around his mouth. He was already distressingly pink-cheeked, and at this rate he actually was going to have to go to breakfast with his dick tucked into his waistband like a rookie on a points streak. 

He tried to breathe evenly and focus on his pendant as he finished brushing. It sat neatly against his chest, five-pointed star, one arm for each of the five big sports in North America, the circle interior to represent the ball or puck, engraved with an 87 customized for him. The reverse side’s engraving was mirrored, so when he made a vow with it, the wax impression still read correctly.

His phone buzzed again but he ignored it. They had a lot of work to do and he needed to focus. Carolina was a big opponent, the storm surge ritual they’d been cultivating was a powerful offering of energy to the gods. As much as some commentators liked to say it was an unholy abomination, it was proving effective at bringing their community together and currying favour with their god. 

His phone stayed silent through the rest of his ablutions, and he was able to uninterruptedly get dressed and head down the hall towards the elevator, joining McCann there on the way to breakfast. Unfortunately Jared was not a morning person and Sid resorted to checking his phone in the silent ride down to the dining room. 

He tried to casually turn the screen away from Jared, not that he would have noticed, eyes half-lidded, swaying slightly on his feet as he was. 

He was glad he had when he reopened the abandoned conversation only to find the second photo Geno had sent was the same shot as before but now the sheets had been abandoned, leaving Sid looking at the tight material of Geno’s boxer briefs stretched across his hips and thighs. The head of his hard cock was creating just enough lift in the waistband to make a gap between his skin and the thick elastic, so there was a tantalizing glimpse of pink flesh below.

Sid exited the message immediately, eyes snapping to Jared who luckily hadn’t moved at all. The elevator came to a lurching halt and the doors parted. Sid led the way out, slipping his phone into his pocket, so ready to eat and focus on getting back to regular routine. 

He loaded his plate and headed to sit with Tanger, catching Geno’s gaze as he came into the dining room himself, looking generally in a better mood than he usually did in the morning. Sid could only assume it had something to do with his little photoshoot and whatever aftermath he got up to. Geno raised his eyebrows mischievously at Sid from under his cap, giving him a proprietary once over and then turning away to focus on the oatmeal pot. 

“Sid?” Tanger had kicked out the seat he was standing in front of for him, clearly waiting for him to sit with his plate. 

“Yeah, sorry,”

“Ça va? You look…I don’t know, hot? Was the AC broken in your room? It was like a penguin habitat in mine.” 

“So it was perfect?” Sid jumped at the chance to change the subject. The prospect of trying to explain that he was flushed from looking at unexpected pictures of Geno’s dick was not high on his priority list.

“Ha-ha, you know what I mean.” 

— — —

**March 23, 2019**

Sid tried not to let the shootout loss in Carolina weigh too heavily on him. Once again, a point was a point and if they had to claw their way into the playoffs they would. It wasn’t ideal, but the playoffs were a completely different beast than the regular season, and the Pens knew how to play playoff hockey. Three cups in four seasons still sounded really good to Sid’s ears. 

Dealing with Geno however was getting to him. He thought maybe the loss would have been enough to dissuade him from sending more explicit texts, but if anything Sid got more of them. 

They were peppered throughout the day, as if Geno sent him every stray thought he had in his mind. He told Sid about the exact shade of his lips at any given moment, the way he wanted to see him on his knees, how his ass ranked in which pair of jeans he was wearing. 

It was frankly a little overwhelming for Sid. He’d never had a significant other who was so into the chase before - he didn’t know what it was about Geno that set him apart. Maybe it was the fact his competitive nature was inherent, something that he had not just with hockey but with every aspect of his life. Or maybe he was just overcompensating for being uncomfortable speaking English by texting Sid intimate things behind the protective wall of his phone.

But along with the texts of course came more photos. Some were innocent: dogs Geno saw at lunch with Phil, or a weird statue he inexplicably felt the need to take a selfie with to send Sid. 

Others were more private in nature: a shot of his cock against his belly in the morning light, a tantalizing glimpse of his bare ass Sid wasn’t sure how he’d taken, but maybe there was some twisting in a mirror? Sid was never entirely sure what kind of photo he was going to get from G, and consequently started checking his texts from him only when he was in private more often than not. 

They picked up two points in Nashville, battling against music city’s crowd’s cohesive Southern-style prayer chanting. The energy of the building was a familiar wash, sticky and angry. Their idol looked menacingly down over the rink from their music stage. Sid didn’t like playing in the Bridgestone very much at all, despite having found luck there in past. The win they took however felt like a turning of the tides, like a sign from the god that they actually were rising to his challenge.

He and Geno grabbed lunch alone together on their travel day, safe in their relative anonymity in this part of the country. They bent their heads together over the latest reports of Flower’s new son in their small Ye-Olde-Pengs group chat. James was just as pink and sweet as his sisters had been when they were born. Sid and Geno mutually arranged for flowers to be sent to Vero, Geno picking out the most obnoxious bunch and Sid paying for it indulgently.

Meanwhile Geno had wasted no time in capturing Sid’s feet between his own under the table, holding him there, secure and without any acknowledgement at all. Like if they didn’t talk about the footsie, did the footsie happen at all? Sid felt a growing fondness for Geno bloom in his chest. He was trying so hard to figure out the nebulous boundaries of Sid’s vow. 

As they flew to Dallas, Sid pulled his toque low over his head and pretended to sleep as he thought over how Geno had been doing most of the work figuring out their predicament up until this point. If he wanted to get serious about this and reciprocate, he was going to have to get his head in the game and consult an expert.

The morning of their Dallas game from the American Airlines Center’s visitor changing room he steeled himself for potential humiliation and sent out an inquiring message just to feel out his options.

 **SC - 10:45 AM**  
This is kind of an awkward question,  
But since we’re playing each other tonight I thought I’d ask you  
Are you worried at all about the security risks of photos of a sexual nature?

 **⭐️Seggy - 11:10AM**  
Um, is Sidney Crosby asking me for advice about dickpics???????  


**SC - 11:12 AM**  
Not really, I have a teammate who is sending them and I think he’s taking a lot of unnecessary risks.  
No judgement, but you’re the expert.  
I just wanted to pick your brain to find out if you had some kind of more secure method  
or an app.  


**⭐️Seggy - 11:13AM**  
Ok grandpappy Croz  
I genuinely don’t know how this didn’t occur to u  
Ur snap chatting with me rn  
Snapchat images can’t be saved without the sender knowing about it  
And u can restrict who sees them and when  


**SC - 11:15 AM**  
Right.  
I don’t really use it that often  
Mostly just to keep in touch with guys from other teams, like you  


**⭐️Seggy - 11:16AM**  
Happy humping  


**SC - 11:17 AM**  
Uh, thanks?

Sid flipped over to his messages, despite sitting in the same locker room as Geno. It wasn’t like he could lean around Jake and Phil and say ‘Hey G, if you want to keep sending pictures of your junk to me, I’d really feel more comfortable if you did it though snapchat.’

 **Sid**  
_11:17 AM_  
Do you have a snapchat?

 **🐧G**  
_11:19 AM_  
No  
Y?

 **Sid**  
_11:20 AM_  
The photos are timed and can’t be saved without the sender knowing about it. 

Sid was in the middle of typing out his next message explaining more benefits and features of snapchat when Geno sent him another message. 

**🐧G**  
_11:22 AM_  
Done 👻  
Whats your name?  
🍆

— — — 

**March 25, 2019**

“So how’s it going with your friend?” Adra asked, early in their session. She occupied the cramped guest priestess office in Madison Square Garden with few trimmings: a candle she lit sometimes, one tapestry she hung up, and her notebook. Dana had unfortunately definitely gotten into the office before her and tacked up no less than seven inspirational and searingly yellow Penguins signs around the room.

“It has its challenges, but I think it’s going well,” Sid said diplomatically. He wasn’t about to tell his priestess about how intimately acquainted he was becoming with Geno’s dick even with the vow. She was there for sports therapy and whatever else he wanted to tell her, and this was definitely not in the realm of wanting to talk about it. 

“And your vow?” 

“Intact as far as I’m concerned.” Sid had his moments where he doubted what they were doing could truly be considered non-intimate, but he reasoned, when he made the vow he’d meant it in the sense of physicality. They certainly weren’t being physical.

Geno had taken to snapchat like a duck to water. In a matter of no time flat he had all the features figured out and was sending Sid selfies with ridiculous filters that made his eyelashes a mile long or made his face 60% devastating lips. Those were of course the innocent snaps. There was no telling when he got a notification if he was going to get Geno being unhappy about his salad for lunch or a full-on nude. 

Geno was a terrible show-off in almost every aspect of his life, and in this semi-exhibitionistic medium he _thrived._

Sid burned with reflection thinking about how, with little to no real input from Sid himself, Geno had managed to figure out exactly what got Sid hot. Sending him photos in his full-length mirror of himself in his backwards snapbacks, hips cocked perfectly to capture the way his generous freeball distorted the silky fabric of his shorts. 

Sid was not proud to say there was a growing folder of incriminating photos of Geno on his phone that got more than a little use in the past few days. Even worse, Geno _knew_ every time he took a screenshot of one of the photos and just sent him knowing eyeless smileys in reply.

“You know, when you first mentioned this entanglement I was a little worried,” Adra said, tapping her pen against her notebook and regathering Sid’s attention. He furrowed his brow in concentration and tried not to blush. He focused on her suit, it had a black base with tiny reflective gold stripes today, “I thought maybe this kind of challenge was going to be especially difficult for you considering your sometimes turbulent relationship with our god.” 

Sid sunk further into the chair he was occupying, it wasn’t really big enough to be truly comfortable, but he could try. 

“Well, it hasn’t been easy,” Sid agreed tensely. He didn’t particularly like ruminating on his past failures, but sometimes they needed to be examined to put the present into sharper focus, “but this isn’t like before, the consequences might equal the indiscretion.” 

He’d done small things in his opinion before, broken his vows in tiny ways, akin to Jake eating fast food. He’d been reprimanded with a shattered jaw and then a series of major concussions. It hadn’t felt like the punishment fit the crime at the time and he had fallen into a crisis of faith. What was the point of a cruel god? The only thing that made sense then was that there was no god at all, and that the universe was random and indifferent to them all. The only force at work was chance. 

The fall from grace had been long and hard. The priestess the Penguins had had back then was busy undertaking new motherhood and finding her own way through her patron change and didn’t have the sheer bullheadedness, let alone the time, to deal with him and his tantrums. She’d been let go because of him and at the time he’d been darkly pleased by it. If he couldn’t have hockey, no one should. 

He still felt bad about it; he wasn’t himself in those days. Sid still sent her a fruit basket on Mother’s Day every year as an apology. 

“So this is a _very_ important relationship in development,” Adra made a note in her book, Sid watched her sharply.

“Yeah,” Sid said softly, “I hope so.” 

He wondered then what Geno was telling Adra in his sessions. Did she have any inkling at all what was finally coming to a boil between them? Sometimes Sid felt like no one could possibly understand it, and other times he got knowing looks from Cully and felt as obvious as a preteen with a crush.

“That’s good. I’m glad you’ve found something you want to take that seriously, Sid,” Adra looked up at him, expression warm, “you know how important work-life balance is in this line of work and to have a life outside of the rink is only a good thing.” 

Sid felt vaguely guilty for not telling her the whole truth. Would she be so pleased knowing that his new outside-of-work interest also traveled with him practically everywhere? Would she think it was unhealthily co-dependent? 

He tried to push the thoughts from his mind. They were doing nothing wrong. His vow was intact and that was all that mattered for the good of the game. Geno made him happy, and when he was happy he was playing his best. 

“Let’s talk Rangers.” 

— — — 

**March 26, 2019**

**🐧G**  
_1:20 AM_  
You assist in game so hot  
Look so good out there  
My champ  
Home soon  
Come my house for lunch?

 **Sid**  
_1:22 AM_  
Why are you texting me, you can just walk over here  
We’re about to take off, you shouldn’t be texting anyway

 **🐧G**  
_1:23 AM_  
Lunch?

 **Sid**  
_1:23 AM_  
We’ll see.  
It might not be that good an idea to be alone together in private right now 

**🐧G**  
_1:24 AM_  
You like pic  
Like so much  
🍆

— — —

**March 27, 2019**

Sid did not go to Geno’s for lunch on their rest day. It was made painfully clear they couldn’t handle something like that when Sid had come out of his home gym to find his phone left to charge in the kitchen vibrating across the counter. There were a bunch of new alerts from Geno, snapchatting him. 

Sid could suddenly acutely feel how sweaty his palms were as he looked at the little yellow ghost icons. He paused to breathe and pull a glass out of his cupboard to fill with water. He pressed his eyes closed and drank, trying to calm his heart. The water spilled out the corners of his mouth and over his chin to his already damp shirt. He put the glass in the sink and headed to his bedroom. Sitting on the edge of his bed there was no stalling left to do, he was ready to open the app and find a new collection of devastating Geno sexts. 

**GENO - 9:42 AM**  
You awake? I’m awake  
Sleep best in my bed no clothes  
Think about how warm you look after nap  
Lip so red  
I’m think what part of you make that colour too?  
Nipples?  
Cock?  
Ass?

Sid felt himself get as warm as Geno surely meant. He was right, Sid did get increasingly flushed when he was warm, from sleep, or exercise, or sex. His sex flush was something a surprising number of people had commented on over the years without even really knowing it. Even just a little bit of kissing would make the colour in his lips bleed out past their boundaries. 

He was already feeling a little horny, blood high after his workout, and couldn’t resist replying to G’s dirty talk like he hadn’t so far. 

**SC - 9:45 AM**  
Do you want to find out?

He flopped back into his bed feeling acutely stupid, there was a reason he didn’t usually sext people, or dirty talk really. He was meant for smoothing things over, bland sound bites and polished statements, not provocative porn dialogue. 

He was rewarded with his phone buzzing with a new alert almost immediately. 

**GENO - 9:46 AM**  
You send pic?

Sid was certainly getting hard for the occasion, but as he rubbed himself through his shorts with one hand and looked at Geno’s question with the other, he just couldn’t make himself do it. He wasn’t that kind of brave. There was just so much to risk. He thought he could, but he was definitely choking, early bravado vanishing.

 **SC - 9:46 AM**  
I don’t think I should  
We’re already really pushing the boundaries…

 **GENO - 9:47 AM**  
Tease  
Worst

 **SC - 9:48 AM**  
C’mon, like you don’t want to have all the attention on you  
Show me your dick  
I probably shouldn’t be participating at all  
Shit

Sid shut his eyes annoyed with himself, cupping his balls with frustration. This whole situation was so dumb. His phone pinged - a new photo from Geno loaded into their chat. 

It was mostly just Geno’s pale thighs, splayed open, diffuse morning light spilling over where his giant hand was gripping his cock, already wet at the tip. Sid groaned, _Geno’s_ dick certainly was as dark as his lips.

 **GENO - 9:50 AM**  
You lucky it like you

Sid laughed despite himself, feeling ridiculous that he was stressed out about this. It was meant to be fun, it was _meant_ to be sexy.

 **SC - 9:50 AM**  
I like it too  
Sorry I’m being weird

 **GENO - 9:51 AM**  
You hard?

 **SC - 9:51 AM**  
Yeah

 **GENO - 9:51 AM**  
Good  
All that matter  
Touch your dick and look at me

G sent him a video after that, and Sid’s heart rolled into his stomach. He felt tense and too hard, excited in the jittery way you did having sex with a new partner - although this wasn’t really like sex. He opened the video to find a short clip of Geno slowly stroking his dick, hand moving easily up, bunching his foreskin over the tip of his cock, and then down again exposing the shiny red head. 

He lost time watching the video again and again, hand sliding into his own shorts to grip himself at the root. Thankfully Geno set it to replay as many times as he wanted until closed.

 **SC - 9:54 AM**  
You look so good

He didn’t dare risk saying more. Geno didn’t seem to care, already typing again.

 **GENO - 9:54 AM**  
All for you

Sid’s heart did something at that, a happy, horny lurch.

He shifted and tugged and squirmed his shorts to mid-thigh at last, keeping one eye on his phone the entire time. He didn’t want to miss a thing. He licked his palm - not his favourite but he wasn’t in the frame of mind to shuffle through his bedside drawer for his lube now.

 **GENO - 9:56 AM**  
Think about how big your dick  
Fit in my mouth  
Suck you from soft to hard  
Little bit bad maybe but want to for you  
Spit everywhere  
You like mess?

Sid made a noise in the back of his throat, outright stroking his cock now to the images that Geno was painting. Geno’s mouth stretched around him, chin shiny with spit. He didn’t know what to reply with. 

**SC - 10:01 AM**  
You’re so good at this  
I’m so  
I want that

He had no idea how Geno still had command of the English language. It was hard enough to put one word in front of the next to make a sentence and he didn’t have full command over another language. He certainly couldn’t imagine trying to dirty talk in French while this hard. 

He blew a shaky breath out through his mouth. His hand felt _so_ good.

 **GENO - 10:01 AM**  
Say what I want  
Not good  
Just hot for it

Sid let out an abrupt laugh and agreed with him, hand making sticky slick noises now. He put his phone on his thigh for a moment again to sweep his t-shirt up his chest, scratching at his skin and tweaking a nipple in the process. His phone lit up from idle and he gathered it back up. 

**GENO - 10:03 AM**  
You get wet? Sticky?

 **SC - 10:03 AM**  
Sometimes  
I am now

His phone started ringing immediately. Geno.

“Can’t type anymore.” Geno said as soon as Sid lifted the phone to his ear. Sid laughed breathlessly, hips shifting into his strokes. He could hear the unmistakable sound of masturbation on the other end of the line and his balls tightened immediately. 

“Gods, G.” His voice sounded, to his utter embarrassment, high and breathy, like someone being ravished maybe. 

“Yes. Love hear you. Sound wet.” His voice was scraping into a deep range Sid had never heard him use before. It made shivers roll down his spine and his cock jerked in his hand, spitting precome over his knuckles. He pulled his thighs up so his feet were flat on the bed and he could thrust a little more into his hand. 

“Sound like you want it. Bad. Desperate. What noises you make when I touch? Suck?” Sid was beginning to get the picture that talking dirty was getting Geno off as much as Sid was, “What you sound like stretch on my fat cock, hmm?” 

“Thought you,” Sid shut his eyes and swallowed hard, throat clicking, “you wanted me to fuck _you_.” He even _sounded_ like he was getting fucked, spacey and shaken.

“Yes.” Geno said it like punctuation, like a thrust, “Mmm both. We take turn.” His voice was thick and sweet like honey. The speed of their breathing, of the sounds they were both making were picking up, racing towards the finish together, egging each other on. He licked his lips with his equally dry tongue, heart pounding. 

“You come soon?” Geno asked, like it wasn’t a foregone conclusion that Sid was going to nut harder than he ever had all over his own belly in a matter of seconds, “Want feel it, you come in my mouth? Or my face, where you want?” 

“Ah- G!” 

Geno moaned as Sid stopped breathing abruptly, belly heaving as he liberally shot all over himself, cock jerking and spitting as he worked himself through it in tortured tense silence. He gulped a great noisy lungful of air as the aftershocks rocked him. He groaned a little as he listened to Geno get his on the other end of the line, unintelligible language tripping out of him. 

“Oh, fuck,” Sid panted, slowing his strokes as his cock started to soften. 

Geno murmured what sounded like agreement, but he wasn’t speaking any kind of English yet, it was probably the muddled Ukrainian he spoke when he really wanted Russian. Sid stretched on his bed, easing his aching feet out of their tense curl and resting his sticky hand against his hip. 

“That probably wasn’t strictly something friends do,” Sid said quietly. Geno groaned. 

“Tired,” he whined, but seemed to sense Sid’s unease even without his body language to read. “We talk on phone. Friend talk on phone always. God can’t control what I say, it’s fine Sid, don’t worry,” he muttered warmly, “sleep now,” 

“Didn’t you just wake up?” 

“Mm yes, best morning. Jerk off, nap.” He sounded like he was snuggling back into his bed. If Sid closed his eyes he could almost imagine him lying right next to him, warm and content and touchable.

“You nap, I’ll see you at practice tomorrow,” Sid said softly, chest aching with how much he wished in that moment that they could be in the same room, that he could be stroking Geno’s fluffy bedhead back into order, or being lulled back into the arms of sleep himself.

Geno hummed long and low and Sid hung up, elbow aching a little bit as he unfolded it from holding the phone tensely to his ear for such a long period of time. 

He took a shower alone, and for the first time in a long time wondered if it was worth it.

— — —

**March 28, 2019**

Sid fidgeted as he listened to the tweedling of the FaceTime request. He kind of hated doing this, but he needed to talk to someone who had experience in this kind of thing.

Morning skate that day had been good, easy and uncomplicated. Geno bounced from group to group in his non-contact jersey, good spirits practically overflowing onto the team. If Sid was their team’s head, leading the way and setting the tone, Geno was definitely their beating heart, buoying them all with his infectious energy. 

Geno had, of course, spent long enough giving Sid lascivious and loving looks in turns that Tanger had given him a few inquiring looks, eyes pinging back and forth between them. Sid tried to communicate back to Geno that he needed to cool it, but probably only looked equally pleased, and caught himself several times smiling for no reason at all.

He wanted to be with Geno all the time. He’d had to forcibly make himself walk past when Geno was making breakfast in the kitchenette, and not stop and admire him when he was razzing the trainers for their boring grey KT tape.

He succumbed only in the gym, while cooling off on the stationary bike. Geno was going through a routine of stretches on the mats in leggings and his 71 tee. When he split his long legs wide and leaned in to stretch out his thighs, Sid didn’t avert his eyes. He instead zeroed in on the off centre bulge just under the fabric, temptingly thick and long. Geno was the one who caught him, giving him a knowing and equally dark look, closing his legs almost coquettishly. 

The only reason he didn’t immediately get wood right there in the middle of the gym was because his balls were being literally bisected uncomfortably by a stationary bike seat. It was only while digesting the distinct feeling of gratitude for the ball pain in retrospect that he realized things were maybe getting out of hand.

So here he was doing something he knew he was going to regret in some ways but in others -

“Sid!” Duper’s chin and hairy nostrils filled the screen of his phone. 

“Hey - what are you doing, this is a video call, all I’m seeing is up your nose,” Sid said by way of greeting. The fact that he was the more technologically competent one in this situation made him feel like the blind leading the blind. The things he’d seen Jake do with his phone that he didn’t even know were possible hurt his brain a little bit (how did he zoom in with just his thumb?! It made no sense and never worked when Sid tried it). 

“Oh-” Duper’s eyebrows promptly filled the screen instead. Sid smiled despite himself, he missed Duper more than he cared to admit. Seeing him again, happy and healthy and whole but so far away made something in him ache, bittersweet, “Alright I see now, your mug is getting uglier by the day and you needed to hear it from me with sympathy in my eyes.” 

He tilted the phone even closer to his face and his intensely blue eyes, “I’m sorry, Sid, but it looks terminal,” he said very gravely.

Sid laughed freely, the ugly giggle that made his face scrunch up until his cheeks swallowed his eyes and showed way too much gum. 

“But seriously it is good to see you…hear from you…whatever this is,” Duper finally held the phone at an appropriate length from his face, “although I am curious as to what this is about, are Sullivan’s panties still in a twist about what I said in December?” 

“No, I don’t think so,” Sid reflected; Duper’s words might have been a little blunt about the coaching they were getting, but it was admittedly a rocky year and he could see both sides of the situation, “that’s not why I wanted to talk to you anyway.” 

He swallowed nervously.

“How did you know you needed to give up your vow?” Sid asked, watching Duper’s expression morph from curious amusement to outright surprise. 

“Well, it was a dumb vow to make in the first place,” he said honestly, “most of the biggest ones are. Like the traditional rookie vow to give up home - what a stupid thing to do,” he shook his head and rubbed his hand over his beard, more grey now than Sid had ever seen it before. He felt like it was only yesterday that Duper retired, but every time he saw him now, the months, years, spent apart were writ large.

“What is happening that you, the vow boy scout, is in vow crisis this late in the season?” Duper asked, as usual cutting straight through any smoke Sid tried to throw up. 

“I-” Sid didn’t know where to start, “Geno,” he said finally, feeling stupid for not knowing any other way to express it. Duper looked immediately like he understood what was going on anyway. 

“I see, why don’t you start at the beginning then? What is your vow if you don’t mind my asking.” 

“No romantic intimacy for the season,” Sid hung his head.

Duper cringed. 

“Are we talking nothing just with other people or also-” the jerking off motion again. At this point Sid was thankful that Adra hadn’t done it while penning his vow for the records at the beginning of the season.

“Just other people.”

Duper whistled low, “yep, that’s a dumb one.” 

“I know that. I just thought at the time, you know, things had just ended with me and-”

“You don’t need to explain yourself, especially not to _me_ of all people,” Duper rolled his eyes, “We all make vows that we think make sense at the time. Whether they actually do or not is debatable,” his image froze for a moment and came back, a glitch that made Sid desperately sad for a moment that they were having this conversation over the internet and not in person.

Sid smiled at him, fond and sad. Duper had health problems that complicated his playing career, his last vow before he retired had been to not see his family for the season, keeping them away in Canada, in the hope to get more time, to not get sick any more. 

Sid had watched him struggle through those last few months, without the support of his family, seemingly suffering under an indifferent god. His faith had broken before his body had and his opinion of the entire religion had suffered ever since. 

“We all thought it was worth a shot,” Sid offered.

“It was stupid. The fact anyone went along with it at all says something about the state of the NHL and that religion,” Duper spat. Sid chewed his bottom lip and resisted the urge to touch his pendant through his t-shirt. 

“I don’t know what’s going on with you and Geno and honestly, I don’t really want the dirty details,” he scratched through his beard again, considering, “but my advice to you is that you need to do what’s best for you, Sid. Not your god, or the team, or the priestess. You. You need to do what will make you happy. You can’t play good hockey if hockey itself is what’s making you miserable. And you can’t put your entire life into the hands of a being that probably doesn’t even exist.” 

“Are you becoming an atheist in your old age?” Sid asked teasingly, happy for the moment to move into talking about less serious things. He needed to process Duper’s words before he was ready to continue with it.

“Fuck no, that’s the same amount of work as being devout,” He said with a cluck of his tongue, “and it’s really not worth the effort of trying to explain it to anyone up here, you know how it is.” He launched into a story about his neighbours blaming the gods for the work of a couple of frisky raccoons getting into their garage one night and Sid let himself relax into it. 

They caught up for a while longer about this and that, who was retired, who was getting fat, what rookies were looking good, regular stuff. 

“Listen, Sid,” Duper said at last as they were wrapping up their conversation, expression becoming sober and concerned, “I really have doubts about your taste, I mean Geno,” he made a stricken face, “but I want you to be happy and there’s a whole wide world out here after hockey, where no one collects teeth and you’re expected to live another forty years with yourself.” 

He looked at Sid for a long earnest moment. 

“If he is what makes you happy, makes you want to get up in the morning, and makes you want to give up hockey to keep him…it’s worth it.” 

Sid bobbed his head. He’d heard that over the years from a lot of older guys, one day there’d come a day when you realized that hockey wasn’t everything. Sid just never thought that that day would happen to him. 

“I can’t believe I’m actually telling you you should have sex with Geno instead of playing hockey.” Duper shuddered and Sid laughed long and loud. 

— — —

**March 30, 2019**

**🐧G**  
_2:20 PM_  
You to sexy  
Beautiful  
Everyone want taste you

 _3:10 PM_  
I want you  
Want you bab  
Not ask for space

 _3:45 PM_  
No one know about you  
You make me break rules  
I’m sucker for you

 **Sid**  
_4:21 PM_  
If you think I don’t know you’re just texting me Nick Jonas lyrics you’re as dumb as you look haha

 _4:23 PM_  
You know I’m actually kind of worried that you actually think we can’t hear your playlists blasting through your headphones.  
You can give yourself hearing damage listening to stuff that loud

 **🐧G**  
_4:25 PM_  
Not all Nick  
Last one Jonas Brother

 **Sid**  
_4:26 PM_  
Oh, so sorry, my mistake 🙄

 **🐧G**  
_4:26 PM_  
)))))))))

— — — 

**April 1, 2019**

They lost at home against Nashville and then won against Carolina. Sid had no points in either game and felt like he’d hit a brick wall. The positivity he’d been feeling about Geno and striking the right balance with his vow suddenly felt precarious at best. 

The hockey god felt harshly silent and eerie wherever Sid looked at the idols. Even the personal idol he had stationed in the phone alcove of his kitchen felt strangely _present_. It felt like he was being watched.

He was at a loss for what to do. This was the favour of his god he was messing with, the faith and power of all the fans behind him. His own belief in their ability to win another cup made him feel like he owed it to everyone to do all in his power to keep his vow and devote himself entirely to hockey.

On the other hand, Geno was potentially everything else. It wasn’t just about sex any more, or the fact that they couldn’t or shouldn’t be together. It was the odd collection of things Geno left in Sid’s stall because he thought it’d annoy him, or maybe just make him laugh. It was getting hilarious private looks during team meetings that it felt like he alone understood. It was the silly text messages filled with song lyrics and the quiet moments that happened after the dicks were put away. 

**🐧G**  
_10:20 PM_  
Tomorrow you’re win

 **Sid**  
_10:21 PM_  
Tomorrow you might be back in the lineup  
I hope so  
We miss you  
I miss you

 **🐧G**  
_10:23 PM_  
Always here  
Always where you are

 **Sid**  
_10:23 PM_  
You don’t say

 **🐧G**  
_10:24 PM_  
I’m say right now!

 **Sid**  
_10:24 PM_  
It’s an expression, like agreeing with you

 **🐧G**  
_10:25 PM_  
English dumb  
Just say what you want  
I want say my heart belong to you  
Always want be where you are  
No point without you  
No hockey  
No russian  
Would give anything you want

 **Sid**  
_10:26 PM_  
You’re a fuckin sweet talker

 **🐧G**  
_10:26 PM_  
Yes, tongue very sweet  
Wish you could taste

 **Sid**  
_10:27 PM_  
Stop it, I’m old  
I can’t go again

 **🐧G**  
_10:28 PM_  
We old  
Get more old together  
?

 **Sid**  
_10:28 PM_  
Yeah G, we’ll get old together  
I wouldn’t have it any other way

 **🐧G**  
_10:29 PM_  
❤️

———

**April 4, 2019**

“Fuckin’ right!” 

Sid didn’t know who said it, but that was completely the vibe that encapsulated the locker room after their defeat of Detroit. It had been an insane night, Geno’s infectious excited energy had carried them through the game. He had been raring to go after so long watching from the press box. Phil got two goals with Sid getting credit for his third, ending up in the net with the puck, like he’d scored the goal with his whole body.

It was Geno’s first game back and first point in two weeks, and Sid had missed his familiar presence on the bench, on the power play, and looping over the ice. He hadn’t realized quite how much of a Geno shaped hole was in his routine until they’d bumped fists in the locker room before warm up, Geno towering in his skates, grinning gleefully with his whole face. 

Finally.

Geno was finally in place at his back, where he belonged. They were the two headed monster and flying solo after this long felt…lopsided.

The music was cranked in the room like they’d just won a playoff series while they all tromped back in from the ice. Sid basked in the jovial atmosphere, feeling renewed while Sully gave his post-match words and watching fondly as Cully handed the warrior helmet to Muzz for the night.

Geno had disappeared early, as he usually did, headed for the showers, Sid assumed. He was just going himself when he was accosted on the way there, dragged into a dark storage room that was full of their travel bags and trunks. 

Geno closed the door after them, wearing just his leggings, necklaces and a backwards penguins cap. He looked good enough that Sid had to ball his hands into fists to keep from touching him. When he finally turned his attention back to Sid, he wasted no time in stepping up and pulling him close by the upper arms. He smelled like warm body, sweaty clammy, and faintly like the spicy deodorant he favoured.

“Wh-” G’s hand clamped over his mouth, eyes unfathomably dark in the dim closet. He slowly pulled his hand away, testing that Sid wasn’t going to start talking again but Sid stayed silent, looking at him puzzled while he took Sid’s hat off of him. 

Geno’s other hand squeezed around his tricep, thumb rubbing over the fabric of his tee as he looked fondly at Sid, silent and serious. He leaned forward and Sid was certain this was it, Geno was going to kiss him and it was going to be over because there was no way Sid wasn’t going to kiss back for as long as he let him. And Geno did kiss him, but on his forehead, stubbly chin scratching slightly at his brow. 

Sid took a shaky inhale, and Geno did the same at his hairline. He adjusted so their foreheads were pressed together and Sid shut his eyes and basked in the closeness.

“We clinch,” Geno said finally, soft and emotional. 

“Yeah.” Sid agreed. 

“Never be so mad be good at hockey before,” Geno laughed softly, breath fanning over his face, nose brushing Sid’s cheek.

“I know what you mean.” Sid swallowed thickly. They were so close. 

“We’re win cup now,” Geno said at last, pulling back to look at Sid, serious and determined, “If we do this, we make it matter, you know?” 

Sid nodded, reaching up to scrub at his eyes with the heel of his hand, “Yeah, G, if you want the cup, we’ll get it.” 

Geno was silent for a long moment, looking at Sid’s watery eyes and rumpled hair before he pursed his lips and carefully tucked Sid’s hat back onto his head. His finger lingered, tracing over the shell of Sid’s ear, making him shudder and his eyes flutter shut. When Sid opened them again Geno looked a tad remorseful. 

“Only want you. But cup will be good distract,” he nodded and then abruptly left, already in the process of turning his own hat around again so the brim shadowed his face. He left the door open and Sid inside, reeling.

Ten minutes later, when Dana showed up to investigate why the storage room door was slightly open, he found Sid sitting on one of the trunks, still staring into space. 

———

**April 5, 2019**

**Sid**  
_1:28 PM_  
Can you really do this for another two months?

 **🐧G**  
_1:28 PM_  
Do whatever  
Same  
Get moon for you

 **Sid**  
_1:31 PM_  
???

 **🐧G**  
_1:32 PM_  
Have three cups  
Have no you  
Four cups and I get you?  
Yes. Four cups.

 **Sid**  
_1:33 PM_  
You’ve got me, G  
Cup or no cup

 **🐧G**  
_1:36 PM_  
But also  
What if we do thru sheet?  
Still count?

 _1:42 PM_  
Sid?

———

**April 8, 2019**

On the day before they flew out for the first game of the playoffs in New York, Sid hadn’t really seen Geno since their last game, a loss to the Rangers. Even though they’d lost, Sid still had enjoyed the moment, it was fan appreciation night, and as always, he’d taken a moment to look up into the stands and savour what he got to do every year. Living his dream to the fullest.

They’d dutifully taken photos with fans that won their jersey raffles, and distributed the tribute teeth to every child who wanted one until there were none left on the golden platters and the altar was reset for the looming playoffs. Sid especially loved the children who held up the faux teeth to their own gap-toothed smiles when they took photos with their prizes. It reminded him of his own youth, endlessly excited about the game, although they hadn’t introduced the ceramics at that time yet, so he had no collection of his own.

When all the cheering finished and the questions from the press had long since been silenced, they’d all gone home. Sid gave Geno’s retreating back one last long look in the parking garage. He considered for a moment as he watched him head towards his tiny sportscar just following him, just going home with G and letting the season be over. The playoffs were their own event, and some players made a completely separate vow for the occasion. 

Sid had never been one of those players. He got into his SUV and headed to his own home, alone. 

Since then, they hadn’t exchanged more than a few text messages, a stark change from how things had been for the past couple of weeks. Sid kind of missed G if he was being honest. But he knew this renewed focus on their games was Geno sending a signal. He was prepared to get the cup for Sid if that was what it took to have him entirely. Every time he thought about it, he got a kind of butterflies-in-the-stomach feeling, both at the idea of getting the cup again and at Geno’s determination, his focus. 

So, Sid hadn’t been expecting that in the middle of his personal tape review he’d be alerted to a floral delivery waiting at his gate. When Sid buzzed the driver up to the door, he brought with him a huge arrangement of white roses that Sid signed for feeling no small amount of confusion. The whole thing had to weigh over 40lbs all in all, with the pot and the roses and whatever they were anchored to. He’d hauled it into his kitchen curiously.

No one really had his address who would send something like this and if it was a token from a rogue fan he’d need to get security involved again and he hated when that happened.

When the giant plastic bag the roses were delivered in was removed, Sid plucked the card out of its holder, enjoying the sweet scent of the blooms filling his kitchen.

On the card was only three symbols, the star and circle, a heart and an E. 

**Sid**  
_10:53 AM_  
You sent me flowers?  
I mean, thank you, they’re beautiful  
I don’t know that I’ve ever gotten flowers before

Sid stared at them a little puzzled. They weren’t nearly as flashy as he thought Geno would get, and there was no one else here to witness them but Sid. All his previous worries about Geno’s big public displays felt silly now. 

**🐧G**  
_11:00 AM_  
Send you flower for every point we share

Sid looked at the huge arrangement again doubtfully.

 **Sid**  
_11:01 AM_  
Are you serious?

 **🐧G**  
_11:02 AM_  
No (((  
What I want  
But stats guy says no stat for that?  
Would have to add it up personal  
Take too long

Sid smiled at his phone, heart tender at the image of Geno harassing Dave in statistics for romantic numerology.

 **Sid**  
_11:04 AM_  
Oh, well it’s the thought that counts?  
They’re still nice

 **🐧G**  
_11:05 AM_  
158 rose instead

 **Sid**  
_11:05 AM_  
Specific

 **🐧G**  
_11:06 AM_  
87+71

 **Sid**  
_11:06 AM_  
Oh, wow

He smiled to himself and touched one of the roses’ soft petals. The white was a nice touch, they felt less dramatic than traditional red would have been.

 **🐧G**  
_11:06 AM_  
You think is weird?

 **Sid**  
_11:07 AM_  
I didn’t say that!  
I like them  
I’m not sure what to do with them, but I like them

 **🐧G**  
_11:09 AM_  
Do what you like  
I like to do  
Know we talked nothing public  
Can’t be together  
But still think of you  
Want you keep think of me

Sid considered the flowers again. They were large and out of the routine of his home. Every time he looked at them he’d know that Geno sent them to him. They were a physical reminder that Geno existed and was important and that Sid was making space for him in his already over-full life. They didn’t need to be flashy or a public declaration because they were meant for him alone.

 **Sid**  
_11:11 AM_  
You talk a big game but  
You’re actually a softy

 **🐧G**  
_11:12 AM_  
You already know this  
Cry so much at movie  
Want fuck you slow with lights on  
Have strong feeling

Sid knew that was a lyric to something, but wasn’t about to spend the time figuring out what. Instead he spared a few more moments from his tape review to make an order of his own. 

———

**April 10, 2019**

Sid watched silently from the other side of the locker room after morning practice on game day when a dozen of the most gigantic red roses possible were delivered to Geno’s temporary guest stall by a confused staffer while he was in the showers. 

Geno came back to the hoots and hollers of all the guys and waved magnanimously in just his towel, cheeks pinking up as he read over the card written in Russian - for his eyes only. Phil grumbled when he got a hold of it, unable to read it, and Geno cradled the bouquet in his arms like he’d never seen anything like it in his life. 

“Someone _loves_ you, G,” Rusty crowed, “What’d you do? Is there a Russian love machine special?” 

Sid laughed along as the locker room devolved into a terribly off-key rendition of Rasputin and Geno ignored them all, carefully putting his flowers down and getting dressed.

 **🐧G**  
_10:41 AM_  
Flowers not part game day routine

 **Sid**  
_10:41 AM_  
No, but you deserve them too  
Publicly  
I have strong feelings  
And also want to fuck you slow with the lights on

 **🐧G**  
10:43 AM  
❤️❤️❤️

 **Sid**  
_10:44 AM_  
Also, I heard that song in the car the other day and you really need to get your own material

———

**April 13, 2019**

They lost the first game. 

Then the second game.

It felt like the tides had changed and they might not be able to get their legs underneath them. Sid knew that things in the playoffs were minute by minute, and the game wasn’t done until the horn blew, and the round wasn’t finished until they were finished, but this time everything felt different.

For the first time there was something on the other side of the playoffs that had his name on it. Plans bigger than the hockey school, bigger than the cup. He was going to be with Geno and it felt like maybe the rest of his life was just _waiting_ there for him, just out of reach. 

He spent his morning in self-imposed silence after game two, refusing to read post-game reports or answer calls or touch his mountainous inbox. Instead he just packed up his things and got on the team plane with everyone else and stewed.

Sid wasn’t naturally a patient person. He needed to know he was working on a goal to be able to wait it out. He needed a practice, a positive way to measure that he was getting closer and closer to that moment of payoff. 

The series against the Islanders was not positive, it was frustrating and hopeless. And the pure fact that he thought that at all was making him panicky, this wasn’t _like_ him.

He jumped in his car when they landed back in Pittsburgh; Geno was long since gone, always the first to depart even when it required him having to bully his way to the front. 

He muttered under his breath about how stupid this was and then drove straight to Geno’s house. He rolled down the long gravel drive, feeling more than a little ridiculous at the idea but he was already committed, there was no way Geno didn’t know he was here from buzzing him through the gate. His heart was beating fast in his chest as he rounded the bend and parked next to where Geno left his little car. 

He knew he should just go home, maybe take a nap and get his head on straight, but as he sat there and stared up at Geno’s house he couldn’t make himself leave. 

His phone rang.

“Why you sit outside?” Geno asked sounding mostly confused and annoyed, but a little curious too. Sid laughed, setting his forehead to the steering wheel. 

“G, tell me this is worth it.” 

“What? Sidney?” 

“Tell me why I shouldn’t just come inside your house right now and be done with the season.” Sid pressed his eyes closed. 

“Still have five games left. You talk to Adra?” He could hear Geno moving through his house, and the sound of a door opening. Sid lifted his head and watched Geno make his way over to see him sitting in his car, gingerly walking socked feet over gravel.

“No, no I haven’t-”

“You need talk to her.” Geno was close enough Sid could see him frowning, crossing his arms over his chest, he wasn’t wearing his jacket any more. April wasn’t t-shirt weather yet, even in Pittsburgh, he was probably cold.

“But I’m here, and we could-”

“No, you never give up like this. You tell me not give up month ago, I tell you now. We keep playing maybe beat Islanders, maybe not, you know. Have to try, play Penguins hockey, be best.” 

“What if-”

“Doesn’t matter yet. You see how close we are game one? We have chance, you see Columbus beat Lightning? Anything happen, it’s playoffs.” 

They stared at each other through the windshield, mostly just listening to each other breathing. Sid slumped back in his seat. 

“I can’t believe you’re talking me out of getting out of my car right now.” Sid rolled his eyes and Geno set his hand on his hip. 

“Me too, don’t want, but you need listen,” Geno looked rueful, “I’m know you have my back, I have yours, stay strong together.”

Sid nodded, feeling out of control. 

“Yeah, we are.” He needed to cement this moment in his mind, Geno having his back like this the way he so rarely went out of his way for anyone, “I know you’re getting cold and want to go back inside but let me look at you for a little while longer.” 

“Russian. Not cold,” he lied, even posing a little. Sid loved him. 

———

“Pressure caught up to you?” Adra met him at the private players entrance to the arena, holding the door open to usher him inside and walked with him to her office.

“Yeah, it’s just never been like this before,” Sid said tensely. He didn’t want to discuss this in the hallways, and Adra seemed to sense that, staying silent as they went into the bowels of the arena, swiping their access cards as they went.

They passed people as they went, the playoffs causing a constant state of activity in the arena. Sid nodded to everyone they crossed paths with and they gave him tight smiles in reply. It wasn’t unusual to see the captain with the priestess in these kinds of high-pressure situations.

She unlocked the door to her office and flipped on the lights. Sid felt a little bad to have called her in when she had literally just gone home from the plane as well. But he couldn’t help letting out a shaky breath of relief once they were inside anyway. It smelled like her candles and incense and…mundane safety.

“So, what’s going on?” She asked, setting her keys on her desk and taking off her jacket while Sid sank into his usual chair and rubbed his hand over his face. 

“It’s the games. They’re not going the way we want them to, and we aren’t playing as a whole unit,” Sid frowned, “our defence is-”

“You’re not here to talk with me about hockey right now, are you?” Adra dropped into her usual chair as well, “I mean, yes of course you are, but you don’t call emergency meetings for hockey panic, Sid,” she said, eyes sharp and focused on him. She could see right through him and for a moment Sid was speechless.

“What’s happening with your vow?” She prompted him.

“It’s…I meant what I said, we aren’t playing well and-” Sid paused, he tried not to say things like this out loud too often, lest they come into fruition, “and it’s starting to feel more like work. Like there are other more important things I could be doing.” 

“Like being with Geno,” she added for him. Sid looked at her, startled. Of course she knew what was up. Of course, _priestesses_.

“How long have you known?” Sid sunk deeply into his seat feeling a strange sense of relief wash over him. He hadn’t even known that keeping a secret from Adra was weighing on him.

“Not too long,” she said evenly, “but neither of you are great at hiding what you’re feeling when you’re happy, and the bouquet was a pretty big declaration in a visitor’s locker room.”

Sid felt himself flush, the only reason he’d been able to send it was because he could pretty much ensure his own anonymity from everyone except Geno in doing it. The fact Adra had connected the dots was excruciating.

“No one else would know, Sid,” she said softly, “I speak with your both intimately on a weekly basis, it’s my job to know what’s going on in your heads.”

Sid nodded and sat there, exhausted suddenly. Adra picked up the slack in conversation.

“This is a lot to have had on your mind and kept to yourself. It’s hard to focus entirely on hockey, to be the fastest, smartest and best you can be when you’re hauling around this much baggage, Sid. You’d know better than anyone how much your mental health affects your energy and your ability to devote yourself into other things.” 

Sid knew, of course he knew what she was saying to be true, but clearly he needed reminding.

“And this _is_ something very large between the two of you. If it’s as serious as you’ve said before, it’ll affect the rest of your life more than any other partner you might have,” she shrugged, “I’m not surprised these first two games have gone this way with both of you in turmoil alone, regardless of where the rest of the team is at.” 

“I know,” Sid admitted at last, “I’ve been preoccupied by him, and what constitutes breaking my vow and what doesn’t and not spending enough time thinking about hockey.” 

“That’s not necessarily a bad thing for you. For the Penguins, yeah probably bad, but for you it isn’t,” she cocked her head, “you’ve been toeing the line of your vow?” 

Sid flushed and folded his arms around himself. 

“I’ve been trying not to, but Geno is um-” 

“Persistent when it comes to something he wants. I know,” Adra said with amusement, “So, you think you have broken your vow?” 

“I don’t know,” Sid admitted, “I didn’t intend for any of this to happen when I made it, but now that it has I don’t regret it.” 

“Then _that_ is all that matters. Go into the next game refreshed, and know that if it doesn’t work out it’s not the end of the world.” Sid nodded at her words, feeling lighter than he had in a month.

Adra shifted in her seat. 

“But now, I’m afraid, is the lecture about coming to me with your problems before they boil over during playoffs,” she shook her head, “and we’d made such good progress before this.” 

Sid laughed and tipped his head back and relaxed.

———

**April 16, 2019**

It was over. 

After the handshake line, Sid gathered up a game puck and gave it to the ref to deliver to the celebrating Islanders when they were ready for it. He headed for the locker room and didn’t look at the stands, slowly emptying of disappointed fans. He didn’t look up at the idol overseeing the rink. 

He kept his head down and he got through press, through team words and went home. He cleaned out his home altar in the wee hours of the morning, relishing the chance to pay the god service in this small way. He carefully removed the candles, and scratched off all the wax drippings. He washed the whole thing from top to bottom and then oiled it until it gleamed and looked brimming full of new promise. He may have failed his god this season, but he was still trying. 

He sat with it and prayed for a long time thinking of the future, thinking about his vow. Then he covered it with a sheet for the summer and went to bed.

———

**April 17, 2019**

The day dawned bright and warm, light spilling through his window and over his bed beautifully. Sid grabbed his phone and rolled to face the opposite nightstand. He took a picture of the relatively untouched second pillow and rumpled white sheets and sent it to Geno. He laid back for a few minutes and tried to think of what to say to accompany it, thinking fuzzily about every similar message he’d gotten from Geno, but in the time he took he was already getting an alert on his phone that gate access had been requested. 

Sid buzzed Geno through and headed to the washroom to brush his teeth.

“You not in bed.” 

Geno sounded disappointed from where he appeared in the doorway to Sid’s ensuite. He looked like he’d just thrown on whatever clothing he’d grabbed first and headed straight over. His eyes were dark and Sid spat out the mouthful of water he had and dried his mouth and chin on his hand towel. 

“I was just going to take a shower,” he said casually, hitching one shoulder in the direction of his giant glass shower. Geno looked keenly interested, eyes bright for someone who was usually slow to rise. 

“Did you want to join me?” 

“Don’t know. We shower together all the time, what’s in for me?” Geno crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame, cocksure. 

Sid didn’t reply to him, just hooked his thumbs into the elastic of his briefs and peeled them down over his thighs and stepped out of them. He crossed the room without looking back to turn on his shower and get inside. Geno joined him in a moment, clothes discarded on the warm tile floors. 

He shut the door after himself, his broad back still showing the crease lines from his sheets in his own bed. Sid reached out to touch them fondly and let his hand stay as Geno turned into the touch, facing him at last. 

“The season’s over,” Sid said over the noise of the shower and Geno nodded, hands still by his sides, “aren’t you going to touch me?” 

That seemed to be all Geno was waiting for as he pressed Sid back into the cool wall of the shower and leaned down to kiss him at last. Sid leaned back into it, tipping his chin up slightly in Geno’s palms, trying to keep up. It had been months and months since anyone had touched him at all and he felt like he was coming out of his skin, hard and hot for it. Geno’s hands left his face, stroking him from ribs to ass, taking two great handfuls when they finally got there. Sid had never felt anything like it before, Geno had very large hands.

He laughed into the kiss and Geno pulled back to move his mouth amorously over seemingly every other part of Sid’s chin and neck. 

“Want so much. You don’t know,” Geno murmured between kisses into the sensitive hollow under his ear. He broke into a wave of fluid Russian that made Sid’s eyes flutter shut for a moment in horny, breathless appreciation. His cock throbbed between his legs. 

“C’mon let’s get under the water where it’s warm, eh,” Sid sounded ridiculously husky to himself. He tugged G over to the water, relishing the warmth that enveloped them. 

Geno looked away from him only for a moment, to reach up with an irritated expression and re-directed Sid’s main shower head so it wasn’t only hitting him in the lower chest. 

“Make me shower extra,” Geno muttered like a sulky cat, jockeying for more space under the warm water, hair wet and separating somewhat unattractively. Sid adored him exactly the way he was, every last grumpy, bullying, sparsely-haired inch of him. He let himself appreciate G as he was in that moment, and stroked his own rapidly fattening cock.

Geno took keen interest in the proceedings and batted Sid away to take over, big hand wrapping around him deliciously. He varied the stroke to figure out what Sid liked and kissed him deeply again. Sid could feel Geno’s cock hardening against his hip between them.

“It’s not really a shower,” Sid pulled back to say breathlessly and Geno dropped his head to Sid’s shoulder.

“Mmm still, wash every part,” Geno said hungrily, “want put mouth everywhere on you,” he kissed Sid again, tongue sliding into his mouth in a familiar and suggestive rhythm. His hand worked quicker, bringing Sid to the edge almost immediately. Sooner than he thought possible, but his balls ached already. 

“You want ride my face?” Geno continued straight into Sid’s ear, breath fanning over his neck.  
“G-”

"Or I hold you down and open? Eat you out for hours.” 

Sid clutched at Geno’s back, fingers creating what he was sure were white welts as he came abruptly, silent and shaking in G’s arms as he spurted over his fist. When he was finally breathing again, noisy and sweet, Geno rinsed his hand casually and pecked him lovingly on the head. 

“Wash now.”

———

After a distractingly long time in the shower where they somehow got an unreal amount of water on the bathroom floor they ended up back in Sid’s bed, pruney-fingered and happy.

Geno considered him, damp hair curling wildly. He didn’t seem that concerned that he was still hard and hot, cock lying across his hip. Sid couldn’t help but be distracted by it, and reached out to toy with his foreskin. 

“Your cock _is_ dark like you lips,” Geno concluded, unphased by Sid’s play, and kissed one of his nipples, “and here,” he added.

“Yeah? This everything you always imagined?” Sid asked, happy and undistracted. 

He didn’t know the last time he’d had so much fun in bed with someone. He was usually concerned about _something_. Making sure they enjoyed themselves, making sure he wasn’t being too strange, making sure he wasn’t thinking too much about hockey. This was different, Geno held all of his attention entirely, and he already knew Sid made stupid faces and stupid noises and seemed to relish getting him to make them. 

“More lube in fantasy,” Geno confessed and Sid laughed, rolling them over with a twist of his hips to land straddling G so he could lean over and grab the lube from the nightstand. He brought a condom with him, dropping it on G’s chest. 

“You okay with this?” Sid asked, grinding back against Geno’s fat cock under him. Geno looked at him like he was stupid and grabbed his ass again. 

“No, poor me, Sidney Crosby thickest man want ride me, I’m very upset,” he said sarcastically, thrusting up into Sid’s grind, moaning a little at the end of it. 

“Well,” Sid took a moment to get some lube on his fingers, “You talked a pretty big game about getting fucked yourself so I was just making sure.” Geno’s eyes were half lidded with lazy pleasure as he watched Sid finger himself. Sid’s own cock was still thick and flushed between his thighs from the shower earlier, but probably wasn’t going to get hard again this soon.

“I’m want later, tonight maybe. Now you take me, fuck yourself how you want. I’m watch, like god,” he said firmly, running one hand up Sid’s thigh and used the other to grab the condom. He deftly unwrapped it and tucked his hands under Sid’s balls to find his own dick and put it on. 

“You think he’s watching, even after the season’s over?” Sid sighed and bore down, getting himself loose and ready as possible. Their earlier shower activities had helped, but he still wanted to be thorough, and Geno seemed to be enjoying the show considering he was still stroking himself showily, stretching and rolling his hips into his own touch.

“Always watch, is dirty god. Jealous I’m have you alone now,” Geno hummed, “You do this when you alone?” He asked, throaty sex voice back full force, “Have toy here? Fuck yourself just for god to watch? Offer body for good hockey?” 

Sid didn’t answer, couldn’t answer, ass clenching down on his fingers at the very idea that he could be some kind of sexual offering. It sounded like a very bad porno where someone got rawed on an altar but Sid was distressingly into it, cock pulsing a little painfully.

He pulled his fingers free and felt around under him for Geno’s cock to re-position. Geno, bless him, helped, separating Sid’s cheeks so the moment they lined up properly he sunk in without any problems at all, a wet easy glide that made them both moan.

“So hot,” Geno breathed still clutching Sid’s ass. He wasn’t sure if he meant metaphorically or literally but in his lazy pleasure didn’t care as he rolled his hips and settled down a little further. Geno’s cock felt just as big as it looked, and he experimented with the angle he took it, finding the one that made sensation shoot up his spine as he moved.

Geno’s breath hitched as he watched Sid progressively ride him more vigorously, hips jerking up into it like he couldn’t control how good he felt. “ _Best_ ass-” Geno sounded a little out of his mind, voice whining. 

He broke into a long string of what Sid could half understand was incredibly dirty Russian. Sid snapped his hips carefully, balancing his weight with his hands on Geno’s chest so he could rock more firmly atop him.

When Geno’s hands started tugging at his hips more, Sid took his wrists and pinned them down on either side of his head, riding him with purpose. 

“Gods you feel so good,” he panted, his pendant swinging down over Geno’s face with his every snap back, “so big,” he leaned down to messily kiss him, lips locking for only a moment here and there as he moved. Geno panted, throwing his head back with a cry. 

“Are you going to come?” Sid asked him picking up his pace, thighs starting to feel it, “come on G, come for me,” he grinned wickedly for a moment, “show our god who I belong to now.” 

Geno shouted wordlessly under Sid and shook through his orgasm, twisting upward while Sid continued to ride him through it, backing off on his wrists so he could still Sid himself. 

Sid took a moment to breathe, still straddled, resting his forearms on Geno’s heaving chest and ducking his head to kiss him gently. He was still vaguely turned on, but happy to be done and pick it up again later.

“Good?” He rolled off stiffly and grabbed one of their damp towels from the floor to wipe himself off with. 

“Dead,” Geno replied, breathless.

“That’s pretty good then,” Sid rolled back to watch Geno tie off the condom and then loaned him the towel to clean up with as well. 

When they settled back into the bed, and Sid had tugged the covers up over them, he broached the topic. 

“Worth the wait?” he asked, trepidatious. Geno gave him a lazy annoyed look that communicated _you did just see me come my head off, right?_

“Okay, just making sure. I mean you threw that curve ball out there with the god voyeur thing. Pretty kinky.” Sid didn’t know what to think about it working so well for him, maybe something to experiment with later. Geno was clearly into it so chances we good.

“Just words. You one who don’t let me move, hold wrist.” Geno rolled closer to him, pulling the duvet all the way up to his shoulder. 

“Oh. I guess I should have asked about that,” Sid thought it hadn’t seemed like that big a deal at the time but-

“It’s fine,” Geno looked at him with warm eyes, “I like.” 

Sid smiled his dorkiest smile, unable to hold back until Geno sighed hugely and reached out for him. 

“Never make such stupid vow again,” he said sounding sleepy and annoyed, a familiar sound, as he burrowed into Sid’s chest, bullying his arms around him, “sex too good.” 

“Yeah,” Sid laughed, “I’ll try not to, G,” he tucked him closer and pressed a kiss to his almost dry hair. He’d do his best, and pray every day.

———

**April 18, 2019**

Sid stood in a knot of press, hands tucked into his pockets, empty stall behind him. He was there long after everyone else had gone home for the summer. He answered question after question as honestly and blandly as he could. He was more than ready to start his vacation, there was a ticket to Miami with his name on it waiting for him. 

“You’ve had another relatively successful vow season, Sid. Can we ask what that vow was this past year?” Ted from one of the smaller organizations, a blog or something, Sid thought vaguely. It was an innocent and fairly routine question, Sid had answered it a dozen times before.

“Oh,” he turned to his stall pulled the vellum sheaf from its place of pride above his name plate. Adra usually collected all the successful vows for a good faith renewal ceremony in the fall but had left his. It was now for him to decide what to do with it. He looked down at it contemplating what to say. 

“My vow taught me a lot this year, but uh, I didn’t actually have a successful year.” He snapped the wax of his seal while a ripple of noise went through the press. He tucked the scrap into his pocket. 

“You don’t look that upset about it?” Someone asked from near the back, curious. Sid laughed, looking over all the phones and eyes and microphones trained on him. 

“Nah, it was stupid.”

**Author's Note:**

> TEETH. TEETH. TEETH. TEETH. TEETH. TEETH. TEETH. TEETH. 
> 
> thanks beta for doing your thing with this one and convincing me not to name it Holy Bone.


End file.
